


Dusted

by IrenkaFeralKitty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of the Snap, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, The Snap in the GFFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrenkaFeralKitty/pseuds/IrenkaFeralKitty
Summary: Five years ago, a mysterious phenomenon wiped out half of all life in the galaxy. Just as suddenly, the beings turned to dust have returned.No significant  Endgame spoilers. Set in my “Canto Bight Wedding” story setting but reading it is not required to understand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Avengers: Endgame” gave me thoughts.

The world goes black around him for a moment and a feeling of vertigo washes through him. Hobbie flailed for a handhold, reaching for a nearby chair --

The air is empty under his hand and he falls straight to the ground.

There’s a scream from nearby, another voice shouting, and then a shadow looms over him. When Hobbie’s vision stops swimming, he finds a blue skinned Twi’lek stooped over him and staring at him with shocked eyes. 

Why is there a Twi’lek in their apartment?

“What-” The word comes out mangled, like his jaw has to remember how to work. The Twi’lek backs away as he sits up, glancing behind him. When Hobbie follows his gaze, he sees another Twi’lek, female and green and clutching a robe closed over her chest. Her eyes are wide and reverent. 

“I remember you,” she says in a shocked voice. “You used to live here. You’re one of the Dusted, a pilot of Rogue Squadron.”

“Dust- What do you mean I used to live here? This is my home!” But even as the words come out, Hobbie stared around him in growing horror. Gone were the peaceful landscape holos of all the planets he and Wes had gotten especially drunk on. The wall of oddball weaponry Wes had accumulated over the years and proudly displayed had been taken down and replaced with a woven tapestry. The furniture was all different, the lines curving and angling in ways that didn’t quite fit the usual human aesthetic. Even the carpet he’d smashed into moments earlier was different.

The male Twi’lek gives him a sympathetic look and offered him a hand up. When he’s pulled to his feet, the Twi’lek covers his still clasped hand. “Pilot. Dusted One. We have lived here for almost five years. Your companion moved out after the Day of Dust.”

The words don’t make sense. They don’t make any sense at all.

The female approached and after a moment’s hesitation, laid a hand on his arm. “The year is 14 ABY, Dusted One. Somehow, you have returned.”

“What- why do you keep calling me that?” Hobbie asked. His stomach was churning, nausea coursing through him. The more they spoke, the worse he felt. He groped with a mental hand for something, anything, to hold onto that would start making sense.

The Twi’leks shared a worried look. 

“We were fortunate,” the male said in a hushed voice. “None of our close friends or family were Dusted. There was a day, five years ago, almost to the day, when across the whole galaxy, half of the living beings on every planet, space station, and traveling ship vanished into black dust.”

“No sentient race was spared, nor were animals of any shape or size,” the female added. “The galaxy has been in constant turmoil since that day. Although…” She cast a wide eyed look at the male Twi’lek. “If this Dusted One has returned, perhaps the others have?”

While she hurried over to the control pad for the tri-d viewer, Hobbie gave the male Twi’lek another pleading look. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Dusted One’?”

“You evaporated into dust,” the Twi’lek explained. “Some say the Dusted were saved by a celestial being, others that they were destroyed as a warning. The Dusted are worshiped by some, cursed and reviled by others. Most, though, are mourned and grieved for by those who lost them.”

The tri’d activated, displaying an emergency news broadcast. Scenes of revelry flew across the holo display, as well as tearful reunions and angry mobs. Words streamed down the side of the screen. 

**_The Dusted have returned! Chaos erupts galaxy-wide._ **

As Hobbie stared at the tri’d, he saw the chrono displaying the date in the corner of the holo. 14 ABY, just like the Twi’lek woman had said. In the blink of an eye, five years had vanished and if the scenes playing on the tri’d were to be believed, the galaxy had completely reshaped itself. 

A hand touched his sleeve. The male Twi’lek held out a worn scrap of flimsi. 

“Your friend left us his comlink code and new address in case we discovered anything he accidently left behind.”

Numb, Hobbie took the flimsi in a shaking hand. He recognized Wes’s meandering scrawl. After staring at it, he patted at his pockets and found a comlink. Though half expecting it to squeal with angry feedback, it instead activated smoothly, the indicator light turning green. 

Manipulating the controls, he entered the code. The green light blinked rapidly as the signal went out, calling to Wes, flickering as his comlink battled to cut through millions of other signals soaring across the planet. 

_ “Umph. Janson here.” _

“Wes?” The name slipped out before Hobbie could stop it. What should he say? How could he explain when he didn’t understand himself what was happening. “It’s me. Hobbie, I mean.”

Wes’s voice went from sleepy to enraged in half a breath.  _ “The kriff is wrong with you? What kind of sick prank is this? Shove your damned comlink up your ass. If you call me again, I swear by all the Corellian hells I will find you and beat you until you die in a puddle of your own excrement and fluids.” _

The connection ended. Hobbie stared at the device in shock.

“He moved halfway around the planet,” the male Twi’lek noted. “If he was sleeping, he would not have seen the news.”

“You should go to him,” the female said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Hobbie couldn’t tell if the adoring look on her face was because of the drama of the situation or if she fell into the category of “worshiper” that the male had mentioned.

Well, whichever she was, she wasn’t wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Hobbie shook some of the accumulated confetti and streamers off his borrowed cloak once he safely reached Wes’s apartment. He’d never seen Coruscant like this before. The madcap revelry filling nearly every plaza and open level surpassed even the celebrations he’d seen holos of from the day the Emperor died, or when the planet was liberated by the New Republic. 

He was just glad the Twi’lek couple had lent him a cloak so he could hide his face. He’d seen other beings, supposedly former Dusted like himself, being mobbed and just… touched all over.

It made his skin crawl, honestly.

Just as disturbing were all the little hints of the passage of time he kept seeing. Fashion had taken on wilder lines, with spots of bright color standing out against dull fabric. Sequels to the holofilms he’d seen advertisements for were being broadcast in viewing theaters and many of the speeders flitting through the air were new, unfamiliar models. 

The more he walked and used his gifted credits to buy his way onto public transportation, the harder it was to disbelieve the story woven for him an hour earlier.

He was finally here, though. 

Looking down at the flimsi despite having memorized it after staring at it for most of his journey, Hobbie verified he was in front of the correct door. His hand hovered over the control panel, hesitating before he pressed the call button. 

After about a minute with no response, he hit it again. 

And again.

The small terminal screen at the top of the panel flashed to life. A familiar orange and yellow droid appeared, whistling shrilly at him.

“Kate! It’s me, Hobbie. I’m, uh, alive? I don’t really know what’s happening, but I’m here. All of us are, the, ah, Dusted.”

The R4 unit sat immobile for a long while. Then the screen went dark.

Hobbie stood, huddling under his cloak as he waited nervously to see what Wes’s imperious droid would do. 

Finally, the door opened and Kate whistled a familiar greeting. From Hobbie’s perspective, it had just been hours since he’d last heard it. But for her, it had been years. 

Hobbie shuddered as he stepped into the apartment. This was going to be hard to get his head around, wasn’t it?

As the door slid shut behind him, Hobbie slowly began to pull his cloak off as he looked around him. The apartment was smaller than the one they’d shared. Wes’s weapon collection was on the wall, a sword gifted to him from Plourr here, a vibroblade stolen off the body of an Imperial commando there, and all sorts of different blasters and slugthrowers neatly arranged and locked securely into place. Wes delighted in finding strange and unique weapons to add to his collection. 

Beyond that, the space felt both familiar and strange. He didn’t know this place at all, but the furnishings were familiar. The colors, textures, fabrics, and clutter were all recognizable. He could even seen Ketch sitting propped up on the small couch and their old landscape holos cycling above a display cube sitting on a table near the wall.

Metal suddenly bumped into his side. Kate whistled and chirped softly as she pressed close. Pressing his lips together, Hobbie touched the top of her flat headpiece, suddenly feeling very emotional. 

“Kate, what the... hell…”

Hobbie looked up. A door on the far side of the living space was open and standing before him was Wes. 

Any doubts Hobbie had about the veracity of what the Twi’lek couple had told him vanished. Wes looked different. A little older, with faint stress lines marking his face. He wore a simple set of sleeping clothes, a shirt Hobbie had washed a hundred times that was suddenly ready to fall apart from heavy use as it strained across Wes’s chest, and a pair of loose soft pants that hung on narrow hips. His feet were bare, his hands frozen at his side…

Hobbie had never seen such a look on Wes’s face before. Wonder warred with shock and disbelief. There was fear, also. So much fear.

“I called,” he said weakly. “About an hour ago. I tried again but you didn’t answer.”

“I turned my comlink off,” Wes said dumbly.

“I’m… I’m here. One minute we were in our apartment, then everything went black for a moment, and suddenly a Twi’lek is bending over me.”

Wes continued to stare.

Hobbie shuffled his feet nervously. “It’s on the news. About the Dusted being back. Um. Like me, I guess.”

Wes’s eyes flitted down to look at Kate, then back up to Hobbie. He squeezed his eyes shut, almost panting he was breathing so fast, then slowly opened them, clearly expecting Hobbie to vanish. Fingers pinched his side as Hobbie continued to stand before him.

“Hobbie?” Wes whispered.

“I’m here, honest.”

They stood there, frozen and staring at each other.

Then Kate let out an annoyed warble, backed up, a rammed into Hobbie’s legs. 

Forced forward by the impact, Hobbie kept going once he knew he wasn’t going to fall. He stumbled forward into Wes, running into him and catching himself on Wes’s arms. 

Wes gasped at the sudden contact, then raised shaking hands to touch his face. 

“Hobbie,” Wes whispered reverently. His large had were warm as they cupped Hobbie’s cheeks. “You’re real. You’re real! You’re-”

With a strangled whimper, Wes flung himself forward, clutching at Hobbie. 

Hobbie returned the embrace, holding Wes as tightly as he could. He couldn’t begin to understand how Wes was feeling right now, but there was no mistaking his pain or distress, the joy or the tears starting to soak his neck. 

“I’m here, I’m really here,” Hobbie whispered as he held Wes. His best friend, his lover, the man he’d accidentally married while extremely drunk after a mission and never came to regret it. Wes was sobbing now, clinging to him like he thought Hobbie would vanish. Vanish again. 

Wes pulled back, touching his face again with wonder. “You’re here.”

“I am, I’m here, right now-” Hobbie’s voice cut off with a gasp as Wes kissed him. He immediately returned the kiss, holding the other man tightly to him. 

“You’re here,” Wes repeated as he suddenly pulled away. “You were gone but now you’re here again.”

“I am, I’m here for you,” Hobbie said and then he pulled Wes into another embrace, trying to still the tremors running through him.

“I lost you,” Wes sobbed into his neck, the vibrations running straight down his spine. “You were getting a drink and as I watched your body disintegrated into black dust. You turned into dust and I didn’t know how or why, no one did.”

“I don’t know what happened, I wish I did,” Hobbie replied, pressing his lips into Wes’s hair. “I don’t remember it happening. I don’t remember anything from the last- last five years.”

They clung together for a long time, Wes crying and Hobbie feeling his heart breaking at his spouse’s grief and outpouring of emotion. Wes was hurting so much, had been hurting for so long. Pulling away a tad, Hobbie kissed him again, wordlessly sharing the love he had for him and hoping to give him some measure of peace.

“I think you need go back to bed,” Hobbie said when they finally parted. He wiped at the tear streaks on Wes’s face with his thumbs. “It looks like you were fast asleep when I arrived.”

A shudder ran through Wes and his hands spasmed, clenching tight for a moment. “What if I wake up and you’re gone?”

“You won’t, I promise.”

Wes nodded slowly as his back straightened. “Come with me?” he pleaded. 

Hobbie drew Wes tight against him, smiling slightly. “I’d love to. We probably won’t be going to sleep right away if I do, though.”

“Good.” Wes kissed him again and there was fire in him now. The press of his body against Hobbie’s was enough to share his mounting desire. 

“I love you, Wes. Let me show you just how much.”

They stumbled into the bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes. Wes kept touching him, pressing a hand to flesh or synthskin, or resting it over his heart to feel his heartbeat. 

Hobbie made quick work of the necessary preparations once they were naked and on the bed. Wes’s body was tight and out of practice, but he just kept moaning and rocking onto his fingers, begging for more. One part of Hobbie wanted to slow down, to take their time stretching and lubing Wes’s ass. The other part of him knew full well that Wes wanted this to hurt some. He wanted to feel pleasure and pain, to confirm once and for all he wasn’t dreaming. Most importantly, he wanted to feel the ache of taking Hobbie’s cock in his ass when he woke up in the morning so he couldn’t doubt what had happened.

And honestly, he couldn’t hold back much longer, not as Wes whimpered and moaned below him, legs spread and raised up so Hobbie could reach his ass. He had three fingers pumping inside him now, spreading as much lube inside Wes as he could manage. 

“Hobbie, please, I need you,” Wes finally begged. “I’ve missed you so much it hurt.”

“I’m here,” Hobbie groaned. He yanked his fingers out, automatically wiping them clean one on of the sanicloths they kept next to the lube, and then starting applying more lube to his cock.

Wes wasn’t ready by their usual standards, but they’d done it this way before, with less lube and more friction. Wes had never begged for him like this before, though.

He couldn’t resist the pleading expression in Wes’s eyes any longer. Hobbie leaned forward, cock in hand, and placed the tip against his waiting hole. At first nothing happened. Hobbie rocked forward, pressing against Wes’s body.

“You have to relax,” Hobbie told him. “I won’t be able to get in otherwise.”

“Just force it in-”

“I won’t do that.” He stooped forward, arching his back so his head was resting next to Wes’s. “I’m here now. Just relax and let me in.”

Wes whimpered, hands clutching at his arms. He was shaking again, with need and the heady miasma of emotions churning through him. Hobbie just held him close, maintaining that steady pressure against his hole. Finally, after a seeming eternity, Wes’s body released some of its tension and Hobbie’s cock slid inside him.

“Hobbie, oh Force, you’re in me,” Wes moaned, making Hobbie shiver at the unexpected oath. “I’ve been empty for so long, but you’re here now.”

Hobbie caught his mouth and kissed him again, long and hard. “Let me give you more,” he breathed as he pulled away. And then he thrust.

Wes howled, body locking up again as Hobbie forced at least half of his cock inside. “That’s your cock,” he groaned. “Fuck, Hobbie, I’ve missed your cock.”

Kriff, Wes was  _ tight _ . So tight it almost hurt to be inside him. Hobbie began to thrust again, not trying for more depth, but instead to open Wes up, to remind his clenching ass how to take him. Each time his cock plunged into Wes’s body, the other man shrieked. The lube just barely made it possible for Hobbie to move inside him without causing damage.

Hobbie had to take firm hold of Wes’s shoulders and hold him against the bed, also adding more weight to Wes’s angled hips to get him to stop trying to push further down on his cock. Sithspawn, he’d never seen Wes so desperate for him. 

“Wes,” Hobbie said, using one hand to force him to look at him. There were fresh tears leaking from Wes’s eyes. “Wes, I’m here. You’re not alone anymore. I’m really here now.” Taking a deep breath, Hobbie rested his forehead against Wes’s, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the growing strain in his lower torso. “It’s all going to be okay now, I promise.”

His plea was answered by a hitching sob but Wes stopped fighting him, stopped trying to take more of Hobbie than he was ready for. They lay still, bodies locked together, until Wes’s breathing had evened out and the tears finally came to an end. 

“It’s all okay,” Hobbie whispered.

“You’re really back,” Wes said, voice hushed. And then, finally, he began to open up. His body stopped treating Hobbie’s cock like an invader and instead welcomed him as a lover. 

Kissing Wes deeply, Hobbie pulled out briefly to reapply lube and pressed back in before Wes was left feeling too empty. This time, his cock plunged much more easily into Wes’s body. He was still tight and nearly as clumsy in his response as the first few times they’d tumbled into bed together almost- no, over a decade ago- but he’d never been more eager to accept Hobbie inside himself. 

Wes was nearly bent double so Hobbie could be inside him and still kissing him but neither of them wanted to change position. For Wes, he needed to be able to see Hobbie above him, not just feeling and hear him. Meanwhile, Hobbie was watching Wes closely, watching for new signs of distress. He couldn’t fully understand the grief Wes was feeling, their experiences with the Dusting were too different, but he could grieve with him for their lost time together and he’d never lost his fierce desire to protect Wes.

Their bodies moved together now, their old rhythm finally starting to come back to them. Hobbie held Wes’s thighs against his chest, keeping him in place as he began to twist his hips, encouraging Wes’s ass to more easily accept him.

Wes’s head fell back when Hobbie finally began to push in deeper, his neck bared beautifully as Hobbie’s cock reclaimed its long lost territory.

“Oh,” Wes breathed when Hobbie finally filled him to the root. His eyes were wide again and he smiled, truly joyfully smiled up at his spouse. “Hobbie, you’re  _ here _ .”

Hobbie smiled back and snapped his hips in again, driving in as deep as he could. This thrust made Wes’s eyes roll back in his head as he clung to Hobbie with his legs and hands, hips rocking as much as they could to meet Hobbie’s cock. 

Oh, but it was so good now. Hobbie sped up his thrusts, sensing that Wes was close and that he’d be pulled over the edge right there with him when it was time. His lover moved easily beneath him now, hips dropping down to meet Hobbie’s thrusts. Wes’s passage gripped and squeezed around Hobbie’s formidable cock, but in a way that heightened both their pleasure instead of hindering it. 

“Hobbie, oh Force, Hobbie,” Wes sobbed. His passage was beginning to spasm. 

“Is this enough?” Hobbie panted. “Do you need a hand on you?”

“No, no, I’ll,  _ kriff, _ I haven’t been this full- not since you were Dusted- Hobbie!”

With a final cry of his name, Wes wailed as Hobbie’s cock drove him over the edge. Pleasure erupted within his pelvis and through his cock as it rubbed against Hobbie’s flat stomach until he was drowning in wave after wave of ecstasy. 

Hobbie managed to thrust a few more times before he too reached his peak. His cock slammed into Wes’s body over and over again, pausing after each thrust to spill more and more seed into Wes. He came with a gasp and a shuddering breath and everything swirled around him as he was nearly completely overcome. 

After they’d both started to catch their breath, Hobbie reluctantly pulled away from Wes and let his softening cock slip out of him. Wes’s hands snapped into place below his back, holding his ass up in the air. 

“Clean me up?” Wes begged. “Like you used to. I haven’t had your mouth on me in so long.”

The request made Hobbie groan and he looked down at Wes, drinking in the sight of his now loose, wet hole. He didn’t need any further prompting to lower head head and start to feast on Wes’s body. 

Wes moaned as Hobbie began to lick at his flesh and circle the ring of his rear entrance. Hobbie took hold of his hips, holding him up and letting Wes relax and just enjoy being eaten out. 

“I almost wish you hadn’t come,” Hobbie panted into his leg. His expression was adoring and flushed with arousal as he looked at Wes. “I love making you come on your own face.”

Wes moaned again, wishing he was ten years younger so he could get it up again and do just that. His cock was hovering so close to his face in this position. 

Hobbie resumed his work and soon was dipping his tongue inside Wes’s body and setting off new waves of pleasure inside him. They moved together, the only sound in the room being Wes’s soft moans and sighs and the wet sound of Hobbie’s mouth at work.

It was only when Hobbie couldn’t find the taste of come anymore that he eased Wes’s body back down onto the bed. He leaned over him to fish around in the bedside table for a moment and was relieved to find a few dusty sanistrips in the back of the drawer. He popped one into his mouth, dropping the wrapper in the waste receptacle half hidden under the bed, and laid down into the bed next to Wes. 

His spouse curled up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing his face into Hobbie’s shoulder. 

“I missed you so much,” Wes said softly, his voice partially muffled.

Returning the embrace, Hobbie kissed his head. “I’m here now.”

“I know.” Wes continued to hold tight to Hobbie, even as his spouse groped for the bedsheets and covered them up. “I’m going to hate myself if this was all just a dream.”

“It’s not, I promise you. Just… If you do wake up and I’m not here, give me the benefit of the doubt and wait to see if I’m in the refresher before you panic.”

Wes laughed and loosened his hold some. “I’ll try.”

Silence fell in the room as they continued to lay together. 

“It’s going to be hell actually dealing with this in the morning,” Wes whispered. “A lot’s changed.”

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together. I like the sound of that.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was hard to stay focused on his datapad. Wes kept turning his head to look at Hobbie sleeping next to him and pausing his work to touch his chest and feel the beating of his heart and the rush of air moving through his lungs.

Hobbie _was here._ He was _alive._

Wes would never forget the Dusting. He’d been leaning across the back of the couch, calling out a demand for a drink as Hobbie walked towards him.  Then, in a single breath, Hobbie’s body began to crumble, black flecks flying into the air as he came apart. His unopened drink fell to the floor and landed in a pile of dust.

The next hour or so was a blur. He remembered screaming, kneeling next to the pile, and then more screaming coming not just from his own throat but through the walls and ceiling and floor.

The entire galaxy had been united in that moment. United in horror as fifty percent of all life vanished.

The survivors, the rejected, the mourners - there were as many names for the surviving fifty percent as the lost.

They’d forced themselves to move forward, started picking up the pieces while waiting, petrified, to see if it would happen again. Economic systems of entire sectors collapsed. New wars broke out and others came to a horrified end.

One year later, the galaxy was a much different place than it had been before the Day of Dust.

A new message appeared on his datapad and Wes tore his brooding mind away from the past. Before he touched the flashing alert, he checked on Hobbie. Just one more time. He had to be sure Hobbie was still there.

A heart beat steadily under his hand and a soft snore suddenly erupted from Hobbie’s slack mouth. Once a source of irritation, the noisy rumble made Wes smile and tremble in relief.

Feeling reassured, Wes burrowed closer to Hobbie’s side, ignoring the slow burn of arousal in his gut, and opened the message.

_From: G.Darklighter_

_To: W.Janson; I.Forge_

_Re: Re: Re: Re: Let’s make th…_

_The chaos is dying down at Command. I managed to see Ackbar for a few minutes. He agreed a blanket reset on all Dusted personnel accounts is the way to go so we should be able to communicate with all the Rogues soon._

_Some unused storage bays are being converted to temporary housing, so we should at least be able to find everyone a place to rest._

_We’re all going back on rations on-base, fyi. Supplies are a huge concern again. I suggest rationing what you have on hand as well._

_More updates as they come. I’m manning your desk, Boss. Hopefully, I can keep it from being appropriated._

_-G_

 

_From: W.Janson_

_To:G.Darklighter; I.Forge_

_Re: Re: Re: Re: Let’s make th…_

_Once we have open communications, get word to all the Rogues, past and present, that they can come camp out here for now if need be. It’ll be tight but more comfortable than cots. Better refresher, at least._

_I’ve been trying all the comlink codes I remember but nothing is getting through. The entire system is melting down._

_I can come in if you need me._

_-Janson_

 

_From: I.Forge_

_To: W.Janson; G.Darklighter_

_Re: Re: Re: Re: Let’s make th…_

_Don’t be ridiculous. Keep Hobbie close and stay inside. The civilian areas are getting crazier. I’ve had to draw my blaster three times so far to get some would-be thugs to leave their targets alone. Law enforcement is out but working from the surface down. I don’t want to think what the lowest levels are like right now._

_Also, adding one more colonel to the mess at the base isn’t going to improve matters. A major with Gavin’s charm will be plenty._

_Mirax and I are on our way to you, anyways. Be there to open the door. Just put on some pants first._

_You have 15 minutes to fool around with Hobbie before we arrive. This day has been traumatic enough without walking in on you taking Hobbie’s dick in your ass. If I want a live sex show, I’ll hit up a professional establishment where there’s plenty of boobs and body glitter, and no cocks swinging through the air._

_The other Rogue affiliates I contacted were secure. Still no luck finding Wedge or Tycho. Iella and Winter also aren’t responding so I don’t know if the boys contacted either of them when they were brought back._

_See you in 15._

_PANTS, Wes._

_-Forge_

 

He had such good people. Even before he’d woken up to find his message box overflowing and his comlink on the fritz, Inyri and Gavin had been implementing a crisis management plan with two goals: (1) secure the Dusted Rogues, and (2) ensure safety for all Rogue affiliates and families.

Matters were well on their way to being handled.

Beside him, Hobbie let out another snore and shifted slightly, causing the blanket to pull tight across his hard cock.

Fifteen minutes? Under the circumstances, he could get both of them off in two, three minutes tops.

Yanking the sheet back, Wes exposed Hobbie’s morning wood and climbed on top of him with lube in hand. After a brief application, he sank down on top of him, gasping as Hobbie slid into his sore ass.

Hobbie awoke with a start, blinking, then smiled sleepily up at him. “Morning,” he yawned as he began to move his hips.

Wes moaned as Hobbie’s cock began to thrust inside him. “We- We gotta be fast.”

“Mm. Okay. Roll ov-“

 _“No_ ,” Wes snarled. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having Hobbie in his sights.

His spouse looked confused but obligingly began to thrust harder and took his cock in hand, stroking him quickly.

Hobbie didn’t remember, Wes realized as pleasure spiked in him. He ground down, then began to ride faster, squeezing around Hobbie’s cock as best he could.

That was fine. They could deal with that-

Hobbie thrust up hard and Wes’s vision went white for a moment.

Later. So later. Way later.

Right now, he just really needed to come.

Morning sex tended to be fast, but Hobbie apparently took his order to be quick seriously. His hips rocketed up and down until Wes had to keep his jaw slack so that his teeth weren’t slamming together. After about a minute, Hobbie groaned and came, thrusting in long and deep while he emptied himself.

Wes moaned at the steady pressure and the feeling of being filled, but then it was over and he was whimpering-

Hands tugged at his hips, pulling him forward and Wes let himself be guided up to Hobbie’s face. Once he was straddling his spouse’s head, Hobbie began to suck on his cock, fingers slipping into his leaking ass. They teased his prostate while Hobbie tried to suck his brains out through his dick and Wes was soon thrusting down Hobbie’s throat and grunting as he reached orgasm.

When Wes fell backwards, panting heavily, Hobbie stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean of come and _kriff_ that was hot, why was it always so hot-

Time. They didn’t have time to laze around. Inyri would absolutely shoot him in the balls if he wasn’t dressed when she arrived.

In hindsight, maybe he should have tried to find subordinates who weren’t quite so violent by default? The violence was part of Inyri’s charm, though.

He was getting side tracked.

Before Hobbie could tug him down onto the bed for cuddles, Wes grabbed his hand and pulled him upright. “Refresher,” he said firmly. It would be a tight squeeze, but that was hardly unfamiliar to them.

“Right,” Hobbie muttered as he let Wes drag him out of bed. A few seconds later he blinked, looking around himself in confusion.

The split second before realization hit Wes like a punch to the gut. Hobbie really didn’t remember the last five years. To him, it was like he’d just rested his eyes for a moment.

“Oh, Force, Wes,” Hobbie whispered, suddenly looking stricken.

“Refresher,” Wes repeated. “We can both meltdown once we’re in the shower. We just need to be done in the next ten minutes.”

“Alright. Lead the way, love.”

* * *

“The planet’s going insane,” Inyri announced as she stomped into the apartment. Wes greeted her with visible relief before turning to Mirax.

“Corran’s not on planet,” he said. “He left a few years ago to help Luke establish a new Jedi Academy on Yavin IV and hasn’t been by recently. I have his contact information. Terminal’s over there.” As he spoke, he first handed Mirax a piece of flimsi and then gestured towards a terminal tucked against the wall on a small desk.

“Thank you,” Mirax said, fingers clutching at the piece of flimsiplast. Her eyes were wide and strained looking. Unlike Hobbie and Wes, she didn’t look like she’s gotten any sleep.

Hobbie sat on the couch, absently palming his nonfunctional comlink while he watched Wes and Inyri confer, and Mirax start typing on the terminal. She sent two messages, each just a few words, and then turned back to the room, looking uncertain. Shoving his comlink in a pocket, Hobbie gave her an awkward wave.

“Were you…” Mirax’s voice drifted off uncertainty as she sat down.

“Dusted, apparently,” Hobbie confirmed. “One minute I’m getting a drink, the next I’m falling over and our old unit is someone else’s. The new inhabitants were kind enough to point me towards Wes.”

“You were lucky, then. The new owners of our old residence were not as understanding and I was summarily ejected from the unit.” Mirax sighed and slumped back against the couch. “Fortunately, I had my comlink with all its stored contact codes and after a number of failed attempts, I was able to get in touch with Inyri. We’ve been checking on everyone with a connection to Rogue Squadron but finally had to give up. The crowds are getting out of control.”

“Wedge and Tycho are caught out in that,” Hobbie said unhappily. “They were going out to dinner somewhere before… well. You know. They’d invited Wes and I to join them but we turned them down for a night in. They hadn’t picked a place to eat last time I heard from them.”

“Is there anyway to get in contact with them?” Mirax asked.

“The comlink network is completely overloaded. We’ve been trying both their comms, hoping to get through but no luck so far. Gavin’s at the base, though, and has reported that efforts are being made to reactivate the accounts of all Dusted personnel. Once those are up, I’m hoping we can get a message to them. The military data system is still working, at least.”

“This is all so insane,” Mirax whispered. Her voice was tight as she stared at the muted tri’d displaying the news. A fight had broken out at one of the more popular wedding venues.

“I keep wanting this to be some kind of horrible prank, but the way Wes keeps looking at me…” Hobbie’s voice trailed off as he glanced over at his spouse.

His eyes met Wes’s for a moment. The other man was nominally going over something on his datapad with Inyri but was looking over at Hobbie instead of her. The raw, naked pain and joy in his eyes sent a chill down Hobbie’s spine. It was terrifying to think that Wes had spent the past five years alone. Gavin and Inyri were good people, but they were both so much younger than Wes and had missed out entirely on the Rebellion. There really hadn’t been a lot of people left after the Day of Dust from the old days.

Hobbie gave Wes a small, reassuring smile before he turned back to Mirax. “The worst part of all this is that from our perspective, the mess with Isard and her clone was just a few months ago. Wes lost us all once and had to do it all over again when we all… dissolved.”

Mirax looked appalled. “I didn’t even think of that,” she said looking sick.

“The sooner we can get everyone together the easier it’ll be for us all to start healing.”

“Dusted are back in the system,” Inyri suddenly announced.

Wes was already scrawling a message onto his datapad with his stylus. “And… Address sent. I hope Wedge and Tycho keep checking for messages.” Sighing, he nudged Inyri’s side with his elbow and gestured his head towards a chair. “May as well sit,” he said. “You’re not going back out there until you have to or things have calmed down.”

Inyri disappeared into the small kitchen, drawing a glass of water while Wes sat down next to Hobbie and took his hand. He peered around his spouse to looked at Mirax.

“You’re welcome to go put your head down,” he said gently. “There are fresh sheets on the bed.”

Mirax shook her head. “I’m exhausted but I know I won’t sleep. Not with Wedge and Tycho lost in that mess outside. And not when Corran-“ her breath hitched slightly and she pressed a hand to her eyes.

Inyri appeared, glass in hand and laying her free hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I told you before, I haven’t heard Corran mention any other women. And he’s by enough that we would have heard.”

“I know, it’s just… five years is a long time.” Mirax accepted the offered drink and took a slow sip. “I was dead. Or, if not dead, something close enough to count. Corran doesn’t do well alone. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“You’re exhausted and dealing with a huge shock. I know this isn’t easy.” Wes’s eyes flitted towards Hobbie for a brief moment. “I’ll be the first to admit that Corran has some skirt chaser tendencies. But he loves you Mirax, he always has. Over the past five years, he’s held onto that. Maybe it was just him, maybe he was getting something from the Force. Either way, none of us have see him with or heard him mention starting a new relationship.”

“Gods, I just feel so dumb worry about this,” Mirax groaned, rubbing at her temple. “My business is well and truly imploded, the legal wrangling it’s going to take to reenter the galaxy is mindboggling to consider, and I can’t even begin to guess what the political landscape is like now. Worrying about one person seems so petty right now.”

“He was your spouse,” Hobbie said. “That makes him worthy plenty of worry.” His hand squeezed Wes’s.

Sighing, Mirax nodded in agreement. “I’m just not thinking straight right now. There’s just too much to take in.”

“Then I’m going to insist you go lie down,” Wes said firmly and garnering a somewhat surprised look from both Hobbie and Mirax. “Even if you don’t sleep, lying down in a dark room will help you feel better.”

“Come on.” Inyri tugged Mirax up by her elbow and began to steer her towards the bedroom. “We’ll come get you when Wedge and Tycho get here.”

Hobbie exhaled slowly once the bedroom door had slid shut. “I didn’t even think about all the relationships that are in tatters now because the people who weren’t Dusted eventually moved on.

“There’s been a lot of that,” Wes admitted. “People clinging together in terror that the Dusting would repeat itself or just thinking the galaxy was coming to an end.”

“Was there anyone- No, don’t answer that, it’s a stupid question.”

“No, it’s not.” Turning to fully face him, Wes leaned forward and kissed him. “There wasn’t anyone else, not even a random hook-up. I just didn’t have it in me to move past you. Kinda sad, right?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Hobbie replied, kissing Wes again. When they parted, he rested his forehead against his. “It worked out well for me.”

Smiling, Wes angled his head and pressed his lips to Hobbie’s again. This kiss was long and lingering, and slowly, Wes began to push forward until Hobbie was leaning back, almost lying sideways on the couch, his weight on his elbows. Wes hovered above him, straddling his lap as they made out. Shifting his weight onto one of the hands holding himself up, he pressed a hand to Hobbie’s chest and slowly began to stroke him.

Heat began to build in Hobbie’s gut as Wes continued to lean over him. Freeing one of his own hands, he cupped Wes’s head, holding him close as he deepened the kiss. Warmth radiated off his spouse and the intense movement of his mouth was sending sparks up his spine.

“ _Gwahk_ -“ Choking, Was was suddenly dragged backwards, away from Hobbie and almost off the couch.

“Live sex shows, Janson. Not what I want to see,” Inyri said in a threatening voice. “I _told_ you that.”

Was battered her hand off the neck of his shirt, looking more than a little peeved. “Don’t kriffing choke me, Forge, I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll give me a bad performance review? On what grounds? _Ooh, my subordinate wouldn’t let me engage in semi-public sex, bad pilot, bad.”_

“This is my apartment!”

“And you have company! And people who could walk through the entrance at any minute. Get your head out of your pants.”

She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean Hobbie wasn’t regretting having lost contact with Wes.

He could see the humor in this, though. Wes’s expression had turned sulky as he rubbed his neck and continued to try and fail to find a rebuttal to Inyri’s statement.

Unconcerned by the dark glares Wes was shooting at her, Inyri dropped down into a chair and pulled out her datapad.

“Gavin says the military network is starting to creak a bit. Looks like the Dusted personnel are beginning to log into their accounts.”

“That’s a lot of traffic to hit at once,” Wes said. Sighing, he swung himself around until was facing forward again. Hobbie matched him, shifting close enough that their legs pressed together.

Wes found his own datapad and opened up his message system. The loading icon swirled for almost a full minute as the pad struggled to access the military network. It finally loaded, though, displaying a long list of unread messages.

“Reports are starting to trickle in from offworld bases,” he announced as he began to skim through everything. “Fifty planets have declared martial law again to deal with the situation and Admiral Bemarya has split up the Second Fleet to protect the major agriworlds from raiding.”

“Did that happen before?” Hobbie asked as he peered over Wes’s shoulder.

His spouse nodded. “A quarter of the agriworlds off the major trade routes have completely collapsed, leaving their surviving inhabitants struggling to survive. We’ve been evacuating everyone we can to other worlds to try and centralize resources but there are so many in need it’s been tough. Fortunately, some of the more established worlds were able to start course correcting after a year or two and began advertising for new settlers and workers. The more people have been moving, the faster the markets began to recover. The network of independent shippers and smugglers reacts faster than we can, so we’ve tried to focus in aid and security.”

“And that’s all gone to hell, now,” Inyri said.

“Abandoned planets suddenly have fields full of crops with only agridroids to tend to them, and the doubling of the population on settled worlds is going to really bite into resources. Several planetary space forces turned pirate for a while to try and secure resources for their worlds. We’re probably about to see a repeat.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said the galaxy was a mess,” Hobbie said in shock.

“On the upside, the Imperial Remnant has basically been ignoring us and we’ve been doing to same. So that’s one silver lining in a very, very big and dark cloud.”

“It’s the small things in life.”

“Exactly. Leia’s still in charge, so that’ll help, too. She’s been a rock throughout this.”

Blinking at Wes’s familiar use of the Princess’s name, Hobbie was about to ask another question when Wes’s datapad beep, indicating that a new message had arrived.

A grin broke on Wes’s face. “It’s Tycho! He and Wedge are on their way.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit such a good stopping point I decided to go shorter on this chapter and then lean into the next scene in its own chapter. Enjoy!

As they slipped off the public transport, Wedge held tight to Tycho’s hand, keeping his arm anchored over his shoulders. He could walk but they needed speed and that meant moving together. After hours of ducking and weaving around madcap celebrators, and outright fighting other beings lashing out in anger, they were both coming to the end of their tethers.

“Two four seven orenth niner forn,” Tycho said as they approached the locked entrance to the building where they would supposedly find Wes.

Wedge quickly punched in the access code and felt his spine sag in relief when the indicator light cycled to green and the door opened. Once they were inside, he and Tycho collapsed against the wall, feeling numb and worn out.

A simple shared meal out to kick off a week of leave had taken an awful, awful turn. In between breaths, the diner they’d been eating in flickered, darkness swirling in their vision before everything went clear again.

The room they found themselves in was dramatically different. It was still an eatery but the decor, food, and clientele was all different. Fortunately, they weren’t the only confused patrons staring around themselves in bewilderment and the line of holo displays being projected over the bar had quickly clued everyone in on what had happened. Even if it didn’t make a lot of sense.

The noise inside the diner grew and grew as over a hundred voice clamored for attention, then a speeder slammed into a window and it all went to hell.

It took over an hour for Wedge and Tycho to extract themselves from the rubble and get away from the mob beginning to flood the level. A few beings were shouting something about curses and condemnation, but most of the others had been lost in the frenzy of the mob and had begun to attack and loot the surrounding areas.

They’d grabbed whatever civilians they could reach, liberally utilizing their blasters, and forged a trail away from the mob and towards the level turbolifts. Their only hope for safety, Wedge had suspected, was to get as high up as possible.

Leaning against the wall of the turbolift, Wedge had finally remember to try his commlink, only to get static instead of a response. Tycho, and everyone else in the lift, had similar results.

The lift stopped halfway to the upper levels, trapped under a line of other turbolifts that had been ascending with the same goal in mind. Reluctantly, their battered group had emerged from the lift and slowly separated as the different beings sought safety in different ways.

“Where do we go?” Tycho had asked in a terse voice as he ineffectively tried to get his datapad to load his New Republic Armed Forces account.

Gnawing on his lower lip, Wedge watched uneasily as different groups formed and dispersed nearby, some crying out in joy at being reunited and others splitting apart with angry words and accusations flying through the air.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The only intel we have is from the broadcasts in the diner and the story it told was so… insane, I’m having trouble accepting it.”

“What else could explain all this?” Tycho asked, gesturing as what seemed to be formally identical twins greeted each other, one noticeably older than the other.

“If it’s true, we don’t know where anyone is or who was- was Dusted.”

A shout tore through the air, and a large Gamorrean male appeared, charging another standing next to a smaller female. A fight immediately broke out, limbs flying and tusks rending flesh.

Almost without thinking, Wedge pressed back, pushing Tycho further into the shadow of the two buildings they were hiding between.

“Let’s make for the nearest military base,” he said as he watched the horrifying brawl before them. “Put those old wanted posters to use and see if we can talk our way on base with just our words and old IDs. While we travel, we keep trying to raise any of the Rogues and keep checking our datapads. Someone will be trying to reach us, I’m sure of it.”

That had been seven hours ago. Wedge was so tired his eyes hurt from staring out at the chaos around them so much. A few members of one of the of the mobs they’d tried to bypass had attacked them, and while they’d managed to dispatch them, Tycho had taken a nasty blow to his knee that left him limping and listing to the side when he tried to stand. Given that most forms of public transportation had seemingly vanished, Tycho’s injury made for a slow journey on foot.

“Hey, come on,” Tycho said, touching Wedge’s shoulder and bringing him back to the present.

Jerking upright, Wedge realized he’d dozed off while leaning against the wall. He hadn’t done that in years. Here he was falling asleep when Tycho was injured and they weren’t safe yet. Where had his priorities gone?

“Right,” Wedge grunted as he pushed himself upright. He felt himself stagger, but he caught himself at the last minute. Once he was steady, Tycho slung his arm over his shoulders while Wedge wound an arm around his trim waist so they could start making their way down the corridor.

“Did we get anything besides Wes’s address?” Wedge asked tiredly.

“No, he just said to come take shelter. He must have known how crazed things have gotten outside.”

“I’m sure it’s all over the news.” Wedge sighed as they continued to limp down the corridor. He glanced at the doors as they passed them, keeping track of the numbers. They were on the right level and the numbers were getting somewhat close to Wes’s new unit…

“If it’s been five years,” Tycho asked in the quiet hall, “who do you think died between the Dusting and now?”

Wedge stumbled as his brain shrieked in horror. “I don’t even want to think about that right now,” he said grimly. “Let’s just focus on getting to Wes.”

“I know, it’s just… I’m worried. About our friends. About Winter.”

“... I am too.”

They were silent until they reached the unit number Wes had given them. After sharing a brief look and taking a deep breath, Wedge pressed the alert button. At first nothing happened, then a small red light flared to life, showing that the viewer had been activated. Moments later, the light went off and the door flew open.

“Come on in,” Inyri said, blinking blearily and fighting back a yawn. She stepped to one side so they could enter. As the door slid shut, Wedge took a look around.

A desk with a terminal sat to the right and the kitchen on the left. A short hallway began just about a meter behind the desk, likely leading to the refresher and bedroom. Beyond the kitchen and the bar counter was the small living space arranged around the glow of a tri’d. He could see a long couch with one, possibly two bodies lying on it.

“You’re injured,” Inyri said, looking at Tycho. She waved them towards the living space. “Go sit. I’ll get the medkit.”

Wedge helped Tycho over to the armchair and arranged the small cushioned footrest so it was right where he needed it to prop his leg up. Only then did he let himself look at the couch.

For once, it was Hobbie pushing himself upright, slowly coming awake. Between him and the couch back was Wes, still fast asleep. Hobbie pulled the blanket covering them over Wes as he rose to his feet.

“Him and Inyri were the only ones here not Dusted,” Hobbie said quietly as he approached. “Having us come back has hit them hard, especially Wes.”

“I can imagine,” Wedge said, mind flashing back to a startling and exasperating conversation they’d had a few weeks before (from his perspective, at least) which had laid out the precise details of how exactly Wes and Hobbie had come to be married years earlier and never bothered to tell anyone. With such a history together, this entire affair must have been just terrible for Wes.

Trying to push back the horror creeping up on him again, Wedge pulled Hobbie into a hug and just let himself hide there for a few moments. He wanted to just lie down and pretend none of this was happening.

Wedge reluctantly pulled himself away and stepped back. Hobbie leaned over and gripped Tycho’s shoulder. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Tycho sighed. He looked frayed and worn out. “I’ve also been worse, so, there’s that.”

“You realize that’s on the list of things to avoid if you don’t want to further depress everyone, right?” Inyri asked, reappearing. She had a familiar semi-large case in one hand, which she set down. “Can I reach your wound through the bottom of your pants or do you need to take them off?”

Hobbie started forward, but she waved him off. “I’m mostly awake now,” she grunted tiredly. “Just let me do it.”

“Off, I think,” Tycho said, carefully using the arms of the chair to push himself upright. “It’s my knee. I can bend it some but lateral movement hurts like a bitch.”

“Wedge?”

He turned, eyes going wide when he saw Mirax. His oldest friend was tired and wearing rumpled clothes that looked like they had been sourced from Wes’s closet: a plain pair of linen shorts and a soft shirt that hung on her shoulders.

“Mirax.” Wedge wrapped his arms around his as she hurried over. “You’re in this mess too?”

“I am,” she said shakily, pressing her face into his neck. “Inyri keeps insisting it’s going to work out okay, but I have to admit, it’s hard to see that.”

“We’re all here, so it is going to be okay,” Wedge said firmly.

“You look like you’re about to fall over,” she said, pulling back and cupping his face with one hand.

“I feel like it.”

“But you can still spout off inspirational sayings.” Mirax smiled slightly and released him. “Maybe things aren’t completely terrible.”

“Go lie down and rest,” Hobbie insisted. “Wes and Inyri would be getting up soon anyway to prepare for their duty shifts. You won’t be bothering or displacing anyone by using the bed.”

“There’s actually room for all three of us,” Mirax added. “It pays to be small some days.”

“I- If you’re sure,” Wedge said. He desperately wanted to sleep but he could force himself to stay up if needed.

“I am. Raid Wes’s closet for something different to wear. We’ll debrief when you don’t look ready to collapse.”

“And take Tycho with you,” Inyri added as she helped the blond up. “I’ve wrapped his knee just tight enough to stabilize it but I think he has some torn ligaments.”

“Just one more problem,” Tycho groaned.

Despite feeling uneasy about it, the men reluctantly agreed and began to make their way to the bedroom. Pausing briefly to use the refresher, the three Dusted soon disappeared.

“Wes is going to be mad we didn’t wake him up,” Inyri noted.

“He needs the rest.” Hobbie scrubbed at his face, keenly aware of how piecemeal his rest had been this evening. “I’ll leave him a note just in case neither of us wake up when he does.”

“Sounds good.” Yawning, Inyri made her own trip to the refresher after leaving the medkit on the kitchen bar. Hobbie was just finishing writing a note on flimsi when she returned and dropped back down onto the chair, activating the footrest and reclining the seat. She was fast asleep by the time Hobbie had affixed the note to the caf maker and was making his way back to the sofa.

He was careful lying down next to Wes, painfully aware that his spouse wasn’t used to sharing a bed (or in this case, the sofa) anymore.

The only way out of this mess was forward. And now, at least, they had everyone back together.


	5. Chapter 5

The knot of pain in his chest that had been his constant companion for five years finally began to truly lessen as Wes stood quietly in the doorway of his bedroom, mug of caf cradled in his hands, watching his friends sleep. 

Tycho was on the far side of the bed, on his side and curled in on himself like he’d started doing during his time in Imperial captivity. His expression was relaxed, though, and he had an arm draped loosely over Wedge’s waist instead of pressed protectively against his front. 

Mirax was closest to the door, also deeply asleep. She lay on her back, dark hair half covering her face and scattered around her head on the pillow, making her look like the strands were standing on end. 

And Wedge… Wedge was tucked between them looking small and fragile and almost invisible as the plush bedding nearly swallowed him up. He was utterly at peace, though, and sleeping deeply between his two friends.

They were all  _ here _ and they were  _ alive.  _ It was an honest to some deity miracle. 

Rather than risk disturbing them, Wes stepped back and let the door slide closed. He leaned against the wall between the bedroom and the ‘fresher, feeling overwhelmed. Everything had changed so fast. For the better, to be sure, but it was still a huge turn of events. 

Wes let himself breathe for a minute or two, taking the occasional sip of caf as he worked to calm himself down. No one would fault him for crying but he’d hate to accidentally wake someone up. Hobbie and Inyri were both still asleep, and Hobbie hasn’t even twitched when Wes had awkwardly worked his way off the couch. His slow, deep breaths managed to arrest the urge to sob and after a while, his eyes stopped burning with unshed tears.

Waking up next to Hobbie was like something out of a dream. It was a shame he’d gotten so used to early morning hours that he couldn’t just stay and enjoy it. In any case, duty called.

Sighing softly, he left the bedroom behind and went to refresh his caf. Then, with a quickly warmed up pastry making his fingers sticky, Wes turned towards his terminal and sat down to see what had changed while they’d been sleeping. 

The first message he read was the  _ All Personnel-Coruscant _ bulletin instructing all non-essential personnel to stay home. 

The second message was from Ackbar with a list of persons, positions, and ranks he deemed essential. Happily, he was accepting seconds and executive officers in lieu of commanding officers for a few specific units if they were already on base. Which meant Wes could to stay put and just make sure he was in close communication with Gavin, who would be representing Rogue Squadron for now.

Speaking of, Gavin had sent out a morning update with all the latest news: the status of the military and civilian data and communications networks (doing much better now that the initial frenzy was over), the housing situation on base (strained but orderly), the civilian housing situation (the emergency shelters were fairly raucous, apparently), and the still existing need for a high security presence throughout Coruscant’s myriad levels.

Gavin concluded his message by summarizing several messages he’s received from the (current) Rogues and eagerly asking about the (former) Rogues now sleeping Wes’s apartment. 

That update, at least, was easy enough to type out and send, even if it was brief. He hadn’t actually gotten to speak with Wedge or Tycho yet, after all. But while Hobbie’s note had been short, it had been thorough. 

**_0415 hours - Wedge and Tycho arrived. Both exhausted, Tycho’s knee is hurt. Sent them to bed, will debrief when they aren’t about to fall over._ **

He desperately wanted to have Wedge and Tycho with him right now, instead of being separated from them by walls and the bedroom door. They needed rest, though, like he had last night. How else could he have slept through their arrival?

Sighing softly, Wes drank more of his caf and settled more comfortably into his chair, propping his feet up on the small footrest hidden under the desk and pulling keypad into his lap. 

There were plenty more messages still to go through.

He worked for about an hour, going through all the messages Sentient Resources kept sending out with update after update. Then he found a message from Myn Donos stating that, under the circumstances, he’d prefer to stay on Corellia for a while with Kirney but would come in earlier if he was needed. There were almost two dozen other messages from formerly Dusted friends looking to reconnect, a late night message from Leia venting about the upswing in political turmoil trying to pull her away from her own reunited family, and messages from banks, lawyers, family, and more.

More urgently (if that was possible), were the military updates. Data was pouring in from across the New Republic and beyond with information on how different planets and sectors were beginning to react to the return of the Dusted. All of these different reports were being slapped together into larger files and shared with select personnel so strategies could be developed to respond to the rapidly changing situation.

The absolutely most important message came directly from Admiral Ackbar: How should they respond to the return of the Dusted veteran members of Rogue Squadron? Please respond with initial thoughts by the end of day shift.

Wes rolled his head across his shoulders as he considered matters. He’d need to send out feelers to find out if Ooryl and Corran were pondering returning to military duty now that the Dusted had returned.

One thought was niggling at him, though. Could he fly with Hobbie, Wedge, Tycho, and Myn again? Could he go into combat knowing each dogfight could be their last? Could he take on the responsibility of having to fight and trust they would be able to protect themselves? What would happen if they were shot down? If an enemy missile found its target and he was supposed to be flying as wingmate?

Moreover, the days of joking around during briefings were long behind him. He’d stepped into Wedge’s shoes five years ago and as unpleasant and painful as it had been, Wes knew he’d adapted. He’d grown into the leadership role thrust upon him despite never wanting it. 

He would always be ready to follow Wedge’s orders, no matter the potential cost to himself. He wasn’t as certain if he could do that while sitting alongside  _ his _ squadron, the one he’d built in the aftermath of the Day of Dust, and allow them to be ordered into battle without having any input into the battle plan or without knowing what the full sitrep was. He trusted Wedge with his life and to do the best thing for the situation. Wedge wasn’t perfect, though, and he’d always second guess himself if he didn’t at least try to help guide the plan.

Something more like resignation filled Wes as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t do it, any of it. He couldn’t fly with his friends and watch them be shot down, not without losing his sanity once and for all. He couldn’t just go back to being a regular Rogue pilot. He couldn’t give up command. 

So what now?

There were also sheer numbers to consider. With Wedge, Tycho, Hobbie, and Myn alive again, they now had more Rogues than slots. And if Corran and Ooryl both returned, they’d have a full squadron and a half’s worth of pilots wanting to fly. It was all such a mess. 

There was a rustle from nearby and Wes twisted his around, spotting Inyri stretching and lowering the chair into its standard configuration. She grunted at him as she headed for the ‘fresher. 

Wes turned back to his terminal thoughtfully as she disappeared from view. Inyri had been an excellent wing lead for five years and had recently started assisting with some of Gavin’s duties as squadron second. Perhaps…

“Come on, Klivian, up and at ‘em,” Inyri called out a few minutes later, swatting at Hobbie’s feet with one hand while holding her caf in the other. 

Wes barely noticed. He was typing rapidly, exchanging messages with Gavin at a rapid-fire pace. In between checking for updates from Command, they were hashing out the specifics for the search criteria Wes had in mind. He wanted to see what results he got before he replied to Ackbar.

Hobbie stumbled over as he signed his authorization to let Gavin run a search against Starfighter Command’s personnel database.

“Morning,” Hobbie grunted, leaning sleepily against the chair. 

A warm smile spread across Wes’s face as his spouse came with reach. “Good morning,” he replied lightly. The frantic energy from before was gone and with it, much of the mindless terror that had been screaming in the back of his head.

Setting the keypad back on the desk, he grabbed his now cold caf and wrapped an arm around Hobbie’s waist, tugging him towards the kitchen bar. 

Inyri gave him a narrow-eyed look as she leaned near the caf maker, unpeeling a piece of fruit. “I”m not making breakfast,” she said in a flat voice.

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Wes replied as he nudged Hobbie onto a stool. The taller man folded himself onto the small seat and half-slumped down onto the counter, holding his caf close to his head as it rested on his hand. “There should be a few pastries left, though, can I beg you to put one in the warmer?”

“That I can do.” Inyri knew his kitchen almost as well as he did at this point and she went unerringly towards the cabinet housing his small stash of baked goods. She tossed the plastic container down onto the counter after plunking one of the fruit-filled pastries on a plate which went straight into the warmer. After a minute of quiet humming, the plate slid onto the counter next to Hobbie’s elbow. 

“You need to eat, love,” Wes said.

“I am eating,” Hobbie mumbled, eyes still closed. 

“Smelling is not eating.”

New warmth spread through Wes’s chest as Hobbie opened one eye a crack, seeking out the waiting pastry. A clumsy hand fumbled its way towards the plate and Hobbie almost missed his mouth when he finally went to take a bite. He began to tilt to the side slightly as he slowly chewed, looking ready to fall right back asleep.

He’d forgotten the details, Wes realized in surprise. He’d remembered how slow Hobbie was most mornings, contrasting with how quickly he snapped-to when roused to fight, but he’d forgotten the small things. Hobbie favored one eye in the morning, keeping the other glued shut and he never managed to stay properly upright, even when drinking caf. Hobbie even chewed louder in the morning, something that never failed to send small shudders down Wes’s spine as the gross sound bore its way into his head.

He’d endure that wet smacking, squishing sound until the heat death of the universe if it meant having Hobbie back, though.

About halfway through the pastry, Hobbie began to sag once more, his head beginning to drift perilously close to the counter. Wes quickly rescued the pastry and prodded Hobbie back upright.

“Go shower, love,” he suggested. “And use the sonics. If we aren’t already under water rationing, we will be soon.”

“Shower,” Hobbie repeated slowly. He blinked at Wes, the shut eye finally beginning to crack open.

“That’s right, go shower. I think I still have some of your clothes. I’ll bring them in to you.”

Inyri watched in amusement as Hobbie reluctantly found himself waking up more with Wes prodding him towards the refresher. While the two men were absent, she reached back into the cabinet and dug around until she found the sealed container with the homemade sweets his mother had sent him recently. 

She was a big fan of Kotone Janson and her excellent baking skills were just the edge of the asteroid field. Realfy, Inyri couldn’t help but want to model herself after that woman. She was a true marvel, smart and beautiful and strong enough to keep going after losing half her family and all of her grandchildren to the Dusting. Plus, she’d successfully raised Wes Janson to adulthood and that in itself was a significant accomplishment.

Peeking inside the container, Inyri grinned when she saw that it was still mostly full. All the Rogues were constantly in and out of Wes’s apartment and it had become rare for this box to be empty. Filching one of the cookies, she quickly shoved the whole thing into her mouth and returned the container to its original location.

She hoped Kotone came back to Coruscant soon. Last time, the two women had been chased out of three bars and gotten into a shootout with a swoop gang, which they followed up with late night ice cream. Kotone’s knowledge of disreputable bars was over thirty years out of date which made for great fun as they cruised though her old haunts.

“Hobbie’s not going to fall over in the sonic shower, right?” she asked when Wes reappeared.

“Nah, he’s coherent enough to get clean without getting hurt,” Wes replied with a small smile. There was a light in his eyes that had been missing for years and he moved with a new spring in his step.

“Good. So what’s the plan, Boss?” Inyri asked. Wes had been hard at work since before she woke up and she’d long since grown confident in his ability to come up with crazy plans on the fly.

Wes slid onto one of the stools and picked up Hobbie’s half-eaten pastry. “We have more Rogue Squadron pilots than slots,” he  began. “So it makes sense to me to split our pilots up into two squadrons, keeping a mix of Dusted and non-Dusted personnel.”

“So Wedge leads one squadron with, I’m guessing, Gavin as his second?” Wes nodded, so Inyri continued. “You have the other one, don’t you? You don’t want to be a Rogue again?”

Taking a large bite, Wes took his time chewing before answering. “I thought about it,” he admitted, “but I realized it would be too hard to fly directly with the others again. It’ll be awhile before I could be any of their wingmates. Plus, as much as I hated taking over as Rogue Leader, I’ve gotten used to it enough that losing that level of access to intel and planning for ops would drive me nuts.”

“You didn’t do too badly on Adumar,” Inyri noted.

Wes wrinkled his nose at the reminder of that miserable mission. “I still don’t understand how that worked out in the end. You punched three courtiers and Corran was so overloaded with mysteries to investigate I thought he was going to breakdown crying.”

“Gavin.”

“Gavin?” Wes repeated.

Inyri nodded. “Gavin. He was too charming for his own good. Half the court fell in love with him, the other half wanted to be him, and no one wanted to disappoint him.

That made Wes laugh. “Good point,” he said in amusement. “It certainly didn’t hurt that Cartaan lost more of its military forces than any of the other nations.”

“Meh.” Inyri flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture. “That in the past. The present is you leaving Rogue Squadron.”

“I’m hoping to take a few of the current Rogues with me so both squadrons have a solid base to build on. Gavin’s running a search for pilot candidates.”

“Do you know who you want to be your second?” 

“You.” Wes grinned when she froze. “You can do it, I know you can. You’ve got the skills to wrangle a squadron and enough experience to set up a training program. Plus, I bet I can tease an Executive Officer out of Starfighter Command for us.”

“You really want me to… shavit, Wes, that’s a hell of a thing to spring on a person.”

“Just think about it, okay?” The sound of the refresher door suddenly floated into the room. “Nothing’s set in duracrete yet, but I think this is the way to go.”

“What happening?” Hobbie asked as he walked towards them.

“Eh, lots of things. And it’s all probably going to change in an hour anyways, so-” Wes broke off, shrugging.

Blinking, Inyri returned to her caf, hearing the silent order to keep Wes’s plan on the low down for now. 

Looking unconcerned, Hobbie looked first at Wes, then the empty plate in front of him. “I had a pastry,” he said accusingly.

“Yup, you sure did,” Wes replied lightly. “It was delicious.”

Hobbie loomed threateningly over Wes. “That was my breakfast.”

“You didn’t seem to want it,” Wes said, blinking innocently up at Hobbie. 

There was a moment of stillness, then Hobbie lunged forward, tackling Wes off his stool and causing the other man to yelp.

Rather than get involved, Inyri grabbed the rest of her fruit and skirted the scuffle with a small grin, heading for her chair in front of the tri’d. Faint giggling followed her and she just hoped they remembered they weren’t alone. She really was not up for dealing with human dicks right now, especially not when one belonged to her squadron leader.

Still, under the circumstances, it was understandable why they were taking every possible moment to reconnect, and she made a mental note to find a way to clear everyone else out of the apartment soon so they could be properly intimate and just… forget about the rest of the galaxy for a while.

Force knew they all could use some time like that.


	6. Chapter 6

Wedge didn’t want to wake up. For the first time in a long time, he could feel another body next to him, sharing a soft bed a warm bedclothes. He been sleeping alone for so long he didn’t want to lose this simple comfort

At the same time, though, the longer he hovered in the liminal space between sleep and alertness, he began to feel an ache in the hip and shoulder he was lying on. Reluctantly, he gave up on sleep and slowly rolled onto his back, biting back a groan at the twinge of pain that followed.

“Getting old?” a voice asked in an amused tone.

“Shut up,” Wedge grumbled automatically. Then he paused, considering. That was Tycho’s voice. It had been years since they shared a bed. So why were they now?

Opening his eyes, Wedge blinked at the soft lighting filling an unfamiliar bedroom. “Where are we?”

“Wes’s place,” Tycho said from next to him. He was leaning against a pillow, a holonovel in his hands. “It’s just past thirteen hundred hours.”

“Thirteen-” Cursing, Wedge forced himself upright and took another look around. Suddenly, the chaos of the previous night came crashing down on him. He went rigid as every fight and and crisis flashed through his mind, along with the horrible tedium of the long, long walk to an unfamiliar part of Coruscant to hopefully find an old friend. He glanced down at his other side and saw only empty sheets where Mirax had curled up next to him earlier, her hand clutching tight to his under the blanket.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” he said slowly.

“No.” Tycho’s mouth quirked slightly. “I tried to convince myself for the last hour that it was, but it’s just undeniable. Since then, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. I… didn’t want to go out there alone.”

Nodding slowly, Wedge took stock. His joints were still aching some from sleeping on a too-soft bed. He felt tired still, and frazzled and loopy, like his life support unit was mixing in too much oxygen. Glancing down, he saw the familiar shirt he’d borrowed from Wes’s closet, but realized it was much more worn than the last time he’d seen it. There were small holes clustered around the bottom of the shirt at one of the seams and the material was worn thin.

This shirt, this stupid frakking shirt, was proof enough of the time they’d missed out on. He suddenly fully understood why Tycho had been hiding in the bedroom with him. As long as he stayed in here, he could avoid dealing with the situation at hand.

Wedge wished he could do the same.

“We may as well head out,” he said quietly, just as his stomach let out a demanding gurgle. 

“Food would be good,” Tycho agreed. “Especially since we didn’t get to finish dinner.”

Tellingly, neither of them moved. The world outside the bedroom was terrifying and leaving the relative safety of their currently surroundings intimidating.

Sighing, Wedge patted Tycho’s arm and began to crawl towards the edge of the bed. Time to face the galaxy.

There was another still moment when they reached the bedroom door. After sharing a nervous look, Tycho reached out at activated the door controls.

“Refresher first,” Wedge said nervously as voices floated around the corner ahead of them.

In truth, they were just trying to put off facing this new future. What they’d experienced of it already had been horrible. They trusted Wes with their lives, but there was still a deep seated fear that joining him would return them to the chaotic, angry, violent mobs from the night before.

The door to the refresher suddenly opened while Wedge was using the hand washing station and Tycho the facilities. Hobbie stuck his head in, expression bland. “Lunch is ready,” he said, and then disappeared.

Well, they couldn’t ignore that offer, could they?

The apartment was calm when they entered the main space. Hobbie was setting out a bowl of fruit on the kitchen bar next to two plates with sandwiches on them while Inyri lounged in the chair facing the tri’d, flipping through the channels with the control device. Mirax rose to her feet when she saw them, looking relieved as she hurried over, and finally, Wes was sitting on the couch, glaring at a datapad and muttering to himself.

“Afternoon,” Wedge said as he and Tycho approached the bar. 

“Good to see you up. Wes says he’s going to try to let you eat before squeezing the life out of you,” Hobbie said.

Startled, Wedge turned and saw that Wes had rotated so his back was to them…. But his head kept turning to peek over his shoulder. That simple act eased much of the tension that had been building inside him and Wedge finally felt secure enough to relax. 

“I’m glad you’re up,” Mirax said as she reached them. 

“You look better than you did last night.” The words slipped out before Wedge could stop them.

Mirax gave him an arch look, look so damned like her old self Wedge had to fight back a grin. “Commenting on a lady’s appearance, Wedge? I thought you knew better.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

After maintaining the look for several more moments, it melted away and Mirax laughed, lightly punching his arm. “I feel a lot better. I also heard back from Corran and my father, so things are looking up.”

“Good news, I hope?” Wedge asked.

“It is.” Joy suffused Mirax’s features. “They’re both on their way. Corran should arrive first, thankfully. It’d be a mess if they got here at the same time. 

“It’ll be good to see them both.”

“It will be. Now, then, you two need to eat,” Mirax insisted.

“What’s for lunch?” Tycho ask as he carefully sat down. Wedge took the other stool and peered curiously at the plate in front of him.

“Just sandwiches,” Hobbie replied. “We’re trying to work through the perishable items. Theoretically, Wes put in an order for groceries to be delivered, but we don’t know if they’ll actually arrive.”

“The planet’s population doubled overnight,” Inyri said as she joined them. “As it did throughout the galaxy. We’re probably facing another year of famine before the agriworlds can adjust their output and their worker populations stabilize enough to cope.”

Tycho paused mid bite, them pulled the sandwich back so he could look at it. “Another year, you say?”

“After the Day of Dust, surveys indicated that not only were sentient beings Dusted, but so were plants. That meant the galactic supply of crops was cut in half. Worse still was the complete breakdown in supply chains. The first year was… bad.” A pinched expression took over Inyri’s face, a haunted look appearing in her eye as she remembered the struggle for basic sustenance.

“What happens if we can’t get supplies?” Wedge asked as he picked up his own sandwich. The idea of eating the whole thing suddenly made him feel incredibly guilty.

Hobbie shrugged. “We’re heading to base as soon as the way is clear either way. If the groceries arrive, we take them with us. Otherwise, we cancel the order and go in as is. Now eat up. I put some of Inyri’s nasty spread that you both like on the sandwiches, which means neither Wes or I will eat them.”

“It’s not nasty,” Wedge muttered as he forced himself to take a bite. Sure enough, the tangy flavor of Corellian sunfruit, muja fruit, and various spices filled his mouth. It was like tasting home again.

“Gross.” Hobbie wrinkled his nose as he saw a fleck of the yellow condiment squirt out of the sandwich and land on Wedge’s cheek. 

“Go keep Wes on task,” Inyri ordered.

Hobbie raised an eyebrow at her but obediently pushed away from the counter and circled around them to join Wes on the couch.

Inyri and Mirax watched them eat for a few minutes. Finally, Inyri spoke up, her expression sly. “I’m older than all of you now,” she announced. “Only by one year, but, well, that counts, doesn’t it?”

Wedge’s brain began shrieking incoherently again, but Tycho didn’t seem as affected.

“Don’t let that go to your head,” the blond said calmly. “We still have more combat experience than you and we always will.”

“Ooo, fighting words,” Inyri drawled, looking pleased. Instead of reply, Tycho merely raised an eyebrow and set about finishing his sandwich. After watching him, Inyri let her eyes flicker over to Wedge. “Just something to keep in mind,” she said, tilting her head towards the coach. Then, snagging a piece of fruit from the bowl, she strolled away.

What had she-

Wes.

It was all about Wes, Wedge realized. Inyri and Wes hadn’t been especially close before, but clearly the post-Dusting world had changed that. She wanted them to remember that Wes was older now. Older than they were, Wedge thought. Instead of being a year younger, Wes was now four years older. It was strange to think about, especially when Wedge remembered how small and skinny Wes had been before he finally had his last growth spurt a year or so after the Battle of Yavin.

Determinedly, Wedge focused on eating his lunch as quickly as he could. Wes was trying to take care of them by letting them eat but it had to be tearing at him to be staying away. The faster he ate, the sooner they could finally be properly reunited. 

* * *

From the couch, Wes did his best not to listen to the quiet conversation unfolding in the kitchen. Wedge and Tycho were so close, yet so far. He wanted to throw himself at them, to hold them tight and feel life running through them, but he remembered Hobbie’s note and how worn out they’d looked earlier as they slept. They needed food before Wes could embrace them, and whatever else helped them to feel safe after fighting through the mobs that had swarmed Coruscant’s lower levels the night before.

Suppressing a sigh, Wes reached down and grabbed Kettch off the floor. The old ewok plush toy was almost 10 years old now and Wes had had made a number of repairs to him and replaced the stuffing once already. Kettch had aged along with him. 

Settling the ewok in his lap, Wes used the toy as a headrest as he leaned against it, holding his datapad in front of himself and Kettch. It was hard to ignore Wedge and Tycho, and yet it wasn’t. The latest boneheaded decision to come down from Command was a notification that over half his squadron’s funding was going to be re-appropriated towards other areas of need. He was currently composing his third message explaining that this was not only a dumb decision, but one he was going to wholly ignore and it would be on them if Rogue Squadron’s purchase orders suddenly started running in the red.

Honestly. This was beyond stupid. Rogue Squadron was infamous for the range of missions it completed and any kind of infiltration or ground assault usually required either spending credits or pre-purchased goods to help them. It wasn’t like they had appropriate civilian attire for every possible planet and the petty credits fund the Powers That Be were offering to leave them with weren’t anywhere near enough to cover the expenditures that their quartermaster made every quarter, let alone every year.

Farking bureaucrats.

A flash of movement flickered at the corner of his eye and he turned his head hopefully. There was a flash of disappointment when he saw Hobbie and not Wege and Tycho, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. When Hobbie sat down behind him, one arm coming to rest on the back of the couch and the other wrapping around his waist, Wes happily leaned back into him.

“I was ejected from the kitchen,” Hobbie said lightly.

“Something you’ve always been familiar with,” Wes teased, then yelped when Hobbie pinched his hip.

Instead of scolding, Hobbie was laughing softly and he pressed a kiss against the back of Wes’s neck, a gesture that sent a shiver up his spine. Hobbie pulled away for a brief moment to glance behind him, then leaned forward to whisper directly into Wes’s ear.

“As soon as we’re alone, I’m going to make love to you properly.”

Those words, spoken in a low, purring rumble went straight to Wes’s crotch and his vision actually swam for a moment as blood surged downwards. Sure, they’d had sex twice already, but Wes knew those encounters had carried a veneer of desperation that rather cut down on the actual enjoyability of the moment, despite them both reaching orgasm. What Hobbie was promising was something far greater and for a moment, Wes honestly considered kicking everyone out so he could strip Hobbie naked and see how much of him he could lick in a single minute.

“Semi-public, Janson,” Inyri’s voice suddenly said, her voice cutting through the air.

Kriffing- “Go jump in front of an E-Web, Forge,” Wes growled, feeling more than a little peeved. This was, what, the second? third? time she’d-cock blocked him.

Instead of being suitably chastened, Inyri made kissing sounds as she reclaimed her chair and grabbed the tri’d controller. At this point, Wes had half a mind to just give her the damned thing for good.

Inyri unmuted the display and began to flip through the different channels, filling the apartment with a mess of sounds, languages, and music as she bounced from one show to the next. After a minute or two of mindless searching, she settled on some random homemaker daytime melodrama holoshow, muted the program, and settled back in her chair with her datapad in hand. 

Wes, meanwhile, thumped his head against the top of Kettch’s and starting trying to will away his partial erection. Behind him, Hobbie scooted away and the hard pressure the had been resting against his backside vanished. Sighing softly with more than a little regret, Wes turned his attention back to his datapad. He finished writing a few more lines, using his very best bureaucratic language to explain that if the Rogues’ funding wasn’t restored immediately, he was going to come down there and manually extract the funds from Accounting himself. 

Nicely, of course. He’d smile the whole time.

He sent the message off with a sigh and stretched his arms up over his head, arching his back when he realized how sore it was getting from sitting hunched over. 

A hand touched his shoulder. “Hey,“ Wedge said, smiling down at him.

Wes stared up for a moment, then shot up from the couch, practically tackling Wedge as he pulled him into an embrace. The Corellian let out of surprised grunt at the impact, but managed to stay on his feet. 

It was incredible having Wedge back, to feel that familiar narrow, yet strong chest pressed against his and to hear Wedge’s voice murmuring comforting words in his ear. In an instant, Wes felt fresh tears pricking at his eyes.

Another hand touched his back, just above Wedge’s, and Wes instantly knew it was Tycho. He pulled away from Wedge and flung himself at the taller blond man, pulling him into a tight hug. Again, Wes was struck by how familiar this was. Tycho was leaner than he’d been in the years before Lusankya, but he felt just as strong and solid as he’d ever been. Most importantly, though, he was alive.

They were _alive._ _All of them_ were alive again. 

“I can’t believe you’re all here,” he said after reluctantly pulling back.

“I’m sorry we left you all alone,” Wedge said looking pained. 

“It wasn’t just me this time, at least,” Wes said weakly. “Gavin, Inyri, Ooryl, and Corran weren’t Dusted, nor were Iella or Winter. That made it, well, less terrible than after the Battle of Distna.”

“Still, if even a little of the chaos we had to work through last night is any indication, the post-Dusting galaxy was terrible.”

“Well, you’re going to get a taste.” Wes grabbed his datapad and passed it over to Wedge once he’d pulled up the original message about their finances. “Guess how well the bureaucracy is reacting?”

“Shavitt,” Wedge hissed as he looked at the pad. “Where’s your comm? I can call-”

“I got it, Wedge.” Wes might back a smile at Wedge’s sudden intensity and sat back down. “There are cushions under the table,” he said gesturing down. “You youngin’s can sit on the floor.”

“We’re not that much younger now,” Tycho grumbled, then paused. “And, that was a very strange sentence to say.”

“Either way, you two and Hobbie are officially the youngest people in this room.”

“Great, I hate it,” Tycho sighed as Wedge pushed the table further away from the couch, exposing the oversized cushions.

While the other pilots sat down, Wes took a moment to arrange the couch. Kettch got ejected to the floor again so Mirax could take the seat on the far end of the couch. Hobbie was tugged to fully face forward and Wes immediately leaned against his side, overjoyed to finally have all his people back with him again. 

“So, I guess we should do an actual debriefing,” Wes said. He glanced over at Inyri, raising an eyebrow slightly. She sighed in response, but obediently got up and dug his holorecorder out of his desk. Clicking it on, she set it down on the floor between Wedge and Tycho and the couch.

“Fourteen ABY, tenth month, day seven,” Wes recited for the holorecorder, then added the long string of information noting the location of his apartment unit, followed by a list of everyone present. “Who wants to go first?” 

“I can,” Hobbie said, clearing his throat. With years of experience under his belt, Hobbie’s description of events after the Dusting came quickly. He focused primarily on his journey across Coruscant, barely touched on his reunion with Wes, then detailed helping settle Inyri and Mirax, then Wedge and Tycho into the unit. 

When he was done, Wedge and Tycho shared a glanced and began sharing their own story of events. The others listened intently as they took turns describing the diner they’d been dining in, then the various conflicts they’d encountered as they made their way across Coruscant. Like Hobbie, the also skimmed over the actual moments of reunion and soon concluded their story.

“Inyri, Mirax?” Wes prompted next.

“Oh, um, right.” Inyri quickly straightened up. “I was making my way home from a tapcaf when the, uh, Undusting? Whatever the hells we’re calling it, happened. The level I was on didn’t have too many beings on it, which was good because a lot of new beings just appeared out of nowhere. There was no black dust, shimmering, or any other visual cue. One minute there was no one, then they were there.

“Once I figured out what was going on, I decided to go check on Tibc Dieber, Rogue Ten, who lived nearby. From there, I realized that the chaos was spreading so I got Dieber to help me list the locations for all Rogue related personnel, past and present. By then it was about twenty-three thirty hours.”

“That’s about when I was able to get contact Inyri,” Mirax said, jumping in. “I came back in the unit Corran and I shared but there was a new family living there. I got cursed at and shoved out the door within a few minutes of returning. I had my comlink, though, and eventually broke through the struggling comm network and was able to arranging a meet-up with Inyri.”

“Mirax accompanied me as I made the rounds to check on the Rogue families,” Inyri continued. “It was helpful having another pair of eyes to watch my back so I could check for updates on my datapad. Oh-one-hundred hours, Gavin was active on base and messaging Wes and I about the situation. Mirax and I stayed out as long as we could, but eventually, the crowds were turning violent enough that we made our way to Wes’s apartment. We’ve been here ever since.”

Wes then began to ask questions, prompting everyone who’d been outside to remember more about the different fights and crowds they’d seen. He extracted details such as locations, approximate times, and sometimes even sigils or uniforms worn by the different beings.

After over an hour of talk, Wes wrapped up their recording and deactivated the device. He wasn’t sure who, if anyone, would view it, but he knew Starfighter Command would want as much raw intel as they could get.

“Drinks and pee,” Wes ordered as he rose to his feet, holorecorder in hand. “Then I’ll give you my side of events. I know I’ve shared a little of it here and there, but I wanted to wait until we were all here. It’s not something I want to go through multiple times. And then we need to start figuring out what to do going forward.”

Wedge pulled him into another hug when he rose up and Wes let his head rest against the Corellian’s. “You’re amazing, Wes,” he said softly, prompting a dark blush to cross the Tanaabian’s cheeks. “I can already tell that you’ve done incredible things.”

“Thank you for offering us safety and a sense of normalcy,” Tycho added as he joined them. His hand pressed against the small of Wes’s back, comforting and warm. “The only reason we’re coping right now is because of you.”

“I’m just so happy to see you,” Wes replied, hugging Wedge tighter. “Losing all of you was just awful.”

“We’re here now,” Hobbie said from the couch. “The four of us are together and all the broken families will be able to start healing soon.”

“They’re right,” Mirax agreed. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have had anywhere else to go, Wes. I’d be stuck in a shelter or still lost out on the streets without you, terrified I’d never see Corran or my father again.”

The praise surprised Wes and he had to fight the urge to hide his face in Wedge’s hair. He’d just done what needed to be done, like always. Well, that and encouraging the others to do what he hoped for. 

“The galaxy’s a mess, but we’re going to be able to fix it,” Inyri said proudly as Wes pulled away. “We’re Rogues, after all. The impossible is what we do.”

“You’ve got it in one,” Wedge agreed. His dark eyes gleamed with renewed energy. 

There was still so much to do, so much data to share. The healing from the Day of Dust and the “Undusting”, as Inyri had dumbed it would take years. But the kind of healing available to them was so different now. They had their loved ones back and the foundation laid already to help those who wouldn’t have such a happy reunion. 

They were Rogue Squadron, and they were whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done! I'm hoping to add more reunion stories as little stand-alones here and there, but overall, this is wrapped up and done. (Which actually surprised me. I thought I'd need at least one more chapter.) I hope you enjoyed it! I know it's rough in places since I did almost no editing. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and let me know if there's a particular pair or group of characters you'd like to learn more about how the Snap affected them.


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